Digital glory holes

FIRST TO EXPLAIN: Exceedingly hog-tied with life, work and huffing keyboard duster lately, so I’m more than a week behind in these entries—for which I apologize profusely to my loyal disciples (i.e., friends I pay); to you flakes who only visit desultorily, I owe you nothing.

That being said, let’s go back 9 days and live in that world. Happy 13 November, true believers. Now let’s learn something new.

They’re called dead drops. They’re a social experiment and guerrilla art installation, personally installed by one German media artist Aram Barthollacross New York City as part of his residency at EYEBEAM (the leading not-for-profit art and technology center in the US). And they look like this:

and this:

and are found in places like this:

So what purpose do these dead drops serve, other than some new public protrusion to catch your sweater on? Herr Bartholl elucidates:

‘Dead Drops’ is an anonymous, offline, peer to peer file-sharing network in public space. USB flash drives are embedded into walls, buildings and curbs accessible to anybody in public space. Everyone is invited to drop or find files on a dead drop. Plug your laptop to a wall, house or pole to share your favorite files and data. Each dead drop is installed empty, except a readme.txt file explaining the project. ‘Dead Drops’ is open to participation. If you want to install a dead drop in your city/neighborhood, follow the ‘how to’ instructions and submit the location and pictures.

Sounds like an idyllic endeavor of randomized file-sharing—one where unicorn pictures, Hello Kitty games and instructional videos on how to darn your socks are freely circulated among church groups and she-male prostitutes alike. Huzzah, Aram Bartholl!

Call me Chicken Little, but it’s only a matter of time before dead drops become digital cesspools. I want to believe the best in humanity, but let’s face reality. Like its analog cousin the glory hole, a dead drop sure looks like a lot of fun at first—but it’s really just a super way to catch something unpleasant that you could certainly live without.

All the same, I wholeheartedly applaud Bartholl for his efforts. What a kickass, intriguing idea—provided you don’t live in rain-heavy environs. Here’s how he installed them, at 24 frames per second:

If you live in the Tri-State area, I suggest you check them out before digital-savvy pond scum defile them. Bartholl installed the original 5 dead drops at these locations:

07.21.2010 "Big," Macy Gray. For anyone seeking another Macy Gray album on par with "On How Life Is," look no further. Though not as instantly catchy, with repeated listenings it's simply euphoric. "Big" showcases Macy's highly under-appreciated wordsmithery, her peerless phrasing and that otherworldly helium voice—the most engaging and expressive female voice I've heard since Nina Simone.

02.18.2011 “Return to the Sea,” Islands. Following the brilliant, short, happy life of Montreal indie rock band The Unicorns and their gem, “Who Will Cut Our Hair When We’re Gone?” frontman Nick Diamonds and drummer J’aime Tambeur emerged from the ashes to form Islands—and one of the more compellingly quirky, epic, sprawling and distinctive albums known to man.

09.15.2011 "Fuzzy" and "Mighty Joe Moon," Grant Lee Buffalo. Part Wilco, part Eddie Vedder, part Elliott Smith. And yet, completely original. Why more people haven’t heard Grant Lee Buffalo is a crime against good taste. Two of the best albums of the ‘90s right here, masterfully written, voiced and shredded by Grant-Lee Phillips.

12.7.2011 "Mr. Wizard," R.L. Burnside. If this old school, north Mississippi juke joint bluesman doesn't (at the very least) get your head a-bobbin' or toe a-tappin', then you're fucked—because you have no soul. That's a fact. Burnside, a toothless, badass septuagenarian who's now passed away, shreds Mississippi Delta blues—right when it turned electric. Saw him in concert back in 2001, and it was easily one of the top 3 shows I've ever had the privilege to attend.